dublin some more, then home

The day dawned fine, though it had rained hard in the night. Cold overnight temperatures again rendered our patented rooftop refrigeration technology a success, and I consumed my chilled Mullerrice with glee. An Irish breakfast also under the belt (OK, Continental for Bronwyn) we set out. Being Sunday, first on the agenda today was a Sung Eucharist at Christ Church Cathedral. I impatiently said to Bronwyn, “Of course it's Catholic” as she paused (vital lateness-creating seconds) to read the sign. We were confident her status and experience of Mass as a teacher in a Catholic School now would see us through. Turned out in any case to be Church of Ireland, the local francise of the Anglican Communion and welcoming to boot. Coffee after the service different in a mood-lit crypt.

A converted chimney stack on the grounds of an old distillery (that now only purifies Euros out of tourists) caught our attention with “unrivalled views of Dublin” or similar. In many cities this unassuming 60m tower woud be dwarfed. Here it gave views over a fairly industrial town, a far cry from European gems like Florence, and a town that had the appearance of being recently constructed by boys who knew not of tidying. As Bronwyn first observed, in many ways Dublin reminded us of Berlin—the current renaissance here primarily economic rather than political, though the Republic of Ireland remains young, only founded in 1949. And unlike towns like Florence, this is clearly a city on the move.

Lunch in the Distillery Cafe for a break from all this hard, um, tourism, before beginning the trip home. First on foot—via the Rememberance Gardens—back to our B&B to pick up our luggage, then a walk to another bus route. We walked through streets that I likened to an (unnatural?) melding of London and Palmerston North in style and feel. Bus to the airport and I'm already leaving Dublin behind as I read an abandoned copy of The Independent on Sunday rather than absorb the view. Iraq features.

Airport, shmareport, same as all the others. Run pre-recorded tape: Duncan sits at departure gate while Bronwyn shops—efforts partly thwarted this time by Duncan having her book, and thus her boarding pass, preventing her from buying anything at duty free stores, free of duty or otherwise. “Early” check-in on a budget airline (ie. 2 hours pre-flight) means although they do not have assigned seating we got “Priority” boarding and were able to pick bulkhead seats. Soon back at Luton.

Further confusion regarding the trains to and from Luton, as this time our tickets all the way back to Wimbledon cost just £10.10 each, a further 10p discount. We are assured the tickets do not cover Tube travel and so try to take the 15 minutes longer Thameslink route. But when we find the Thameslink doesn't even run to Wimbledon after 5pm on a Sunday, we try our luck and find Tube gates open without complaint. Bemused. Finally home at 9:45pm, later than hoped but safe and happy and acceptably relaxed about work tomorrow. Ah. Home.